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ORESTES hurt you want you


" story of Orestes"
Story codes: MF snuff violent inc nc

By Orestes

This work is copyright (c) 2000 by Orestes. You may
download and keep copies for your personal use as long
as the author's byline and e-mail address and this
paragraph remain on the copies. Please do not post this
story to any web site without permission from the
author. All other rights reserved. No alteration of the
contents is permitted.

Some say I have a twisted mind. I'll grant, my
imagination explores some of the darker themes. Whether
this is a result of some family genetic trait, or of my
upbringing, I couldn't tell you. There's certainly
reason to suspect both in my story.

Over the years, I've even come across people who
fear me a little because they've heard rumours. Dark
rumours. I don't usually try to set them straight, but
I'll do it now; I've wrestled my personal demons, and
finally come to a peaceful place in my life. You might
not suspect it from my writings, but I'm actually a
gentle soul these days.

You probably don't know me. Not my real name,
certainly. But if there are those who read this and
recognize a part of the story, you may know of me.
Maybe you've never heard the story quite this way, and
if not, then I hope it is worth the reading.

Some people carry around conspiracy theories. They
believe that a small handful of individuals control the
political processes of the world. It sounds pretty x-
files, right ? The truth is out there, but they'll
never know it. They're wrapped in some fantasy of a
smoky conference room where seven white males decide
what scandal will break in any given week, or nudge
third world countries into revolution with a simple
phone call.

Reality is much more mundane. Those who control real
political power actually number in the dozens, if not
hundreds, and their control is much less than complete.
It's not like you receive a membership card one day in
the mail. For me, it was just a gradual realization
that most of my old school friends are federal judges,
politicians, or corporate CEO's, and that when I talk
to them at social gatherings, they never interrupt me
before I finish my thoughts.

And perhaps like lords of ancient city states, fate
can take a hand at any turn. Even the most influential
of men and women can fall so very easily, and by
unexpected means.

No one anticipated my father's fall, and his
influence was perhaps greater than my own, if only in
his willingness to take advantage of it. This I learned
second-hand. If this isn't too contradictory, I knew
him very well, but knew very little *about* him. The
man I knew as a father seemed kind and gentle, and
could carry the world on his shoulders.

He was killed when I was still a boy, and I had no
time to learn his faults. All I knew was that I loved

Everything else, I learned from Ella.

Ella was older than me when father was killed. She
protected me from the rumours surrounding his death,
and convinced my mother to have me enrolled early in a
private school. When she wrote to me later, I learned
that my sister knew much more of the story than anyone
could guess.

' I love you so much that I have to tell you this, '
she would begin most letters, and then reveal a new
truth about our sordid family history. Yes, it all
stayed between the two of us, a family secret so dirty
that it could only exist in hand-written love-letters
that I kept under my bed with my pictures of Ella.

My father was away for a long time before that final
night of his life, when he returned to us. At the time,
I had no idea about his role in the world, but I knew
that it was a big deal when he came back from Hong
Kong. The phone wouldn't stop ringing, as friends and
associates called to welcome him back.

It was an economic mission, Ella later revealed to
me. In those days, the asian economies were booming,
taking a larger and larger share of the North American
economy. Their strength came from technology stolen
from the west, for the most part. My father could see
how easily these 'Asian Tigers' could damage his
interests. His response, as always, was aggressive.

He went overseas, to fight the battle on foreign
soil. This I learned later still, when I took over his
business dealings. Instead of competing with the
foreign corporations head on, my father brought the
fight into their corridors of power. Using every bit of
influence at his disposal, he bullied, manipulated and
cheated his way into some of the most successful
foreign corporations. Whatever the cost, my father was
determined to take the spoils of war from these foreign

One of the many costs were his marriage. No, there
was no divorce. My father never would have agreed. Nor
would my mother have asked, for that matter. But the
marriage was over nonetheless. Ella was there that
night that my mother had her miscarriage. The doctors
blamed it on stress.

My father didn't come home. He didn't even return
mother's messages. It was like he had already forgotten
the daughter who never was.

' When the tears finally stopped, there was only
coldness, ' wrote Ella. ' It's so hard for me to
remember the way she was before it happened. That's
when she was our mother. In those days, I remember
following her out to the garden, and putting on my
little gloves so that we could dig weeds together.
Everything about her was warmth and love. '

' After she lost the baby, I didn't follow her
anymore. I was just a young girl, but I think I
understood it even then. One day, she quietly took down
the pictures of our father from the hallway. I don't
think she could stand to look at him anymore. And
sometimes, when she looked at you, so much your
father's son, I could see a flash of coldness in her
eyes. That scared me. '

The letters didn't come all at once. Ella gave me a
little insight here. A little there. We both remembered
the night he came home, but I had no idea of the things
that came before.

' I love you so much that I have to tell you this, '
she wrote me on my fourteenth birthday. ' There was
another man in the house the night that father was
killed. '

When I read this, my hands began to shake. Somehow,
I had known this, but had always denied it to myself.

' He had been her lover for months before father
returned. I could sometimes see them together, when
mother was careless with her bedroom door. I would
stand in the darkness of the hallway for hours at a
time, watching as they had angry, passionate sex, and
then slept on opposite sides of the bed. '

' I wanted to tell you, Orestes, but I couldn't
bring myself to do it. You were so young. I felt like I
should shield you from knowing this. Maybe I was wrong.
I don't know. '

I could never bring myself to blame Ella. Through my
lonely years in school, she was my only family. I read
her letters and looked at her pictures in bed, and
dreamt that she was beside me, sleeping with her arm
around me, like we had as children.

The next part of the letter was crueller still.

' The day that father came home, you must remember
the excitement in the air. It was late in the evening,
and you were already in bed, when the phone calls
finally stopped. I was awake in my bed, too scared to
sleep. '

' I could hear them talking softly in the next room.
Her voice was sweet and seductive. She coaxed him into
bed, and then there was silence. I crept to my door,
unable to breath, and peaked out into the hallway. As I
did so, I saw her lover coming up the stairs. mother
greeted him through her doorway, and invited him in. '

As irrational as it may seem, as I read this, I
feared for Ella. What if she were seen ? My poor, sweet
Ella, only a child herself at the time... how could she
be witness to this ? I read on.

' When they were inside, I could no longer hold
myself back. I crept to the doorway of mother's room,
and from the darkness of the hallway, I saw father. He
was tied face up on the bed, with a pair of mother's
underwear pushed into his mouth, and held there by a
bra tied around the back of his head. "

" You thought that I would be true, did you ?, "
mother taunted. " After the rumours about you and
Cassandra ? After the way you abandoned your family ?
No, Aggie. I'm not that stupid. I've taken Jason as my
lover. He will, no doubt, replace you quite easily. "

' I swear it, Orestes, I didn't know what they were
planning. I was frozen there, at the door. I would give
anything to take that moment back. To sneak to a phone,
and dial the police. Anything. Instead, I watched. My
body trembled as I watched mother and Jason kissing
each other in front of father. "

' They did more than kiss. Like that had many
nights, while I watched from the hallway, they explored
each other's bodies. father was helpless to prevent it.
They teased him as they made love. mother took him into
her mouth to make him hard, only to taunt him for being
a cuckold. '

' In the meantime, Jason pushed into her from
behind, a sneer of superiority on his face. He was
enjoying this victory over his employer. He slapped
mother in the rear as he rode her, and mauled her
breasts roughly. The message was written in his body
language. " I've taken your wife, Aggie. She's mine
now. " '

' Finally, brother, he finished within her. mother
was still aroused, her nipples hard with excitement.
She climbed up onto the bed as her lover sat down in a
chair to watch. They exchanged glances, and smiled.
This would be their final victory. '

' father couldn't help but be aroused. She kept him
hard with her hand as she positioned her body above his
face. His chest heaved with effort as he breathed
through his nose. Slowly, she lowered herself onto his
face, her knees aside his chest, and facing her lover.

My hands were trembling as I read this part of the
letter. I set it down on my mattress, and paused to
catch my breath.

' It was the worst thing I've ever seen, Orestes.
She just had this smile on her face as she rubbed
herself, leaking over his face. Then she pressed her
weight downwards, covering his nose with her ass.
Father struggled against the ropes, his body jerking
with desperation. Then she pulled off of his face, and
let him breathe for a moment. '

' Twice more, she did this, while he moaned into the
panties that filled his mouth. Finally, she spoke to
him. '

" Would you like to breathe ? I'll take out the
panties, Aggie. All you have to do is lick me. "

' He shook his head in revulsion, Orestes. Our
father was a proud man. But after she brought herself
down on his face twice more, he finally nodded his
consent. '

" This is for the child you sacrificed, Aggie. You
didn't even think about her, did you ? Your little
battles were too important. I could never compete with
your hunger for power. It was always too seductive for
me to hold you against. Now I give you a taste of
something else, Aggie, and you'll lick it well if you
want to live. "

' Orestes - my brother, I don't tell you this to
hurt you. I want you to remember our father as a proud
man. I want you to remember the gentle dignity he had
when he would carry you to my bed at night, frightened
from a nightmare, and tuck us in together. I only tell
you this so that you will know the depth of her

' He struggled to please her, his body shaking with
anger and revulsion. Jason watched from his chair,
pleased to see his employer drinking his seed from the
body of his own wife. mother teased father, keeping him
hard with her hand as he completed his revolting task.

' Then, with a cruelty I'll never be able to
describe, she filled his mouth with her orgasm, and
continued to press herself over his mouth and nose
until he was no longer shaking. Until he was no longer
anything. I hope you can give me the forgiveness I've
never been able to give myself. The image will stay
with me forever. '

Beautiful Ella. How can I tell you about the love I
felt for her at that moment ? So often, I had cried
because of my distance from home. My distance from her.
Now I knew the reason why she had kept me away. She
sheltered me, from hundreds of miles away, from my
mother's cruelty.

And despite the images of my father's death, this is
what angered me the most. That I should be separated
from her love this long, to protect me from the sins of
my mother. Beautiful Ella.

This letter took its place with the others, beneath
my mattress. It was different, though. The words
captured my mind. It was like a play without an ending.
It begged for attention.

It begged for anger. It was this anger that surfaced
when I read Hamlet in school. The play mocked me. It
was a play within a play within a story that could have
been written thousands of years earlier. It toyed with
my reality so cruelly.

" How could he be such a coward ? " I demanded of
the class, with a passion that no other student in the
room could muster for the words of the Danish prince. I
slammed the book closed, determined to not let his
weakness infect my soul.

Nothing could distract me. Some evenings, I would go
to town with my closest friend, Paul, who's family had
taken me in on weekends and holidays. He was like a
brother. We would make sport of the local girls,
sharing our prizes in the gardener's shed at the back
of his property.

Even then, when thrusting myself into the innocence
of a young girl who thought we had some sort of future
together, my mind was at home with Ella. I imagined the
feelings that coursed through her body as she watched
the brutal sex play of mother and her new husband. I
could almost feel the mixture of anger and arousal in
her heart.

When I finished, it was always the warmth of my
sister's embrace I craved for, instead of the
inexperienced squirming of some dumb girl I'd met at a

Paul knew that something was wrong. He could see it
in the roughness and anger I gave to these girls in
return for their affection.

A true friend, he never turned away. He waited,
without an impatient word, for over a year. When I
finally showed him the letter, he could see the lust
for revenge in my eyes.

" I'll borrow a car for the weekend, " he told me.
"We can go together. "

Together in my alibi. In my cover story. In truth, I
couldn't be anything but alone in this. Even nature
seemed silent on the evening when I returned to my

I cut the telephone line before I entered.

Ella saw me first. Her eyes went to mine, and then
dropped to the knife in my hand. If I had seen anything
other than excitement in her face, I would have turned
around. I would have walked away.

Instead, she stood in the door to her room, wearing
these wonderful cotton pyjamas that seemed like they
would have better fit the young girl I knew when I last
left this place than the woman she was now. She just
watched excited eyes as I entered my mother's room.

I don't know if she was watching through the doorway
when I killed them. If she was, she would have seen me
kill my step-father first. He gurgled his death through
the holes in his chest as I turned my wrath upon my

Her face was frozen. Maybe she was trying to scream,
but my eyes silenced her. I thrust into her belly with
a steady rhythm. Each time the blade tore into her, the
task became easier. With a final push, I twisted the
blade under her ribs, and she convulsed in a final
deadly dance.

" Ella, " I called out, and she was behind me. I
prayed silently that she would understand.

" It was an intruder. No one will know that you were
here. "

I took her to the floor with one violent motion. She
understood. There must be a struggle. She must be a
victim of this violence too. It would save both of us
from suspicion.

Ella bit her lip to control the pain as I held the
tip of the knife to her throat, just firmly enough to
draw blood.

She would be blameless in this, the victim of a
horrible crime. Beaten and raped by the same intruder
who broke into her home and killed her parents.

With one bloody hand, I stripped away the cotton top
to her pyjamas. I kissed her gently on the lips as I
roughly mauled her breasts. The bruises would show her
struggle. Her lips pulled at mine, hungry for the
comfort of her brother's gentle touch.

In another moment, I had torn away the little blue
pyjama shorts from her lean body. My sister was a woman
now, her sweet body revealed to me. I wished I could be
gentle with her, and hold her the way I had dreamt of
so often. Instead, I kept her in place with the weight
of my body as the blood from my clothing smeared across
her porcelain flesh.

I broke our kiss, and paused in this position, my
body poised above hers.

" You have to do it, Orestes, " her hot breath
delivered to my ear. " It's time. "

Her legs wrapped around me in encouragement as I
pushed myself into her. Even through the tightness of
the condom, I could feel her heat and wetness welcoming
me. I tried to keep my anger and my passion alive, and
give her the same roughness I had treated my earlier
conquests with. My love for her held me back.

Ella knew what I needed. She began to struggle now,
forcing me to fight to keep her in position.

The smell of death was in the air as our bodies
struggled against each other. There would be bruises on
her wrists. Her thighs.

" I should stop, " I whispered to her. "It's enough.

Her lips came to mine again, and her tongue pushed
into my mouth. I never intended to finish within her,
but now, with the blood of our mother hot on our lips,
I couldn't hold back my passion. She twisted and
whimpered beneath me as my body jerked violently

Just one more, and I'll quit, I told myself. One
more. One more. One more.

We were together at last, and in that moment of
orgasm, every lonely night away from my sister's arms
flew away from my memory.

" I'm sorry, " I told her. She smiled at me
breathlessly, savouring the feeling of her own climax.
In this horrible scene, we were finally together, and
no sort of guilt could remain between us.


Paul and I had been out camping that weekend. It
wasn't until Monday that I heard the news. I flew home
for the funeral. No one questioned me there. Not yet.

It wasn't until a month later that I was visited by
a woman from the police.

And it's strange. I never thought anyone would know.
I lost that confidence when I looked in her eyes. She
seemed to know everything. Maybe it was just rumours
about my father's death, still lingering in the
corridors of power. The perfection of the crime fell
away before her gaze.

It wasn't anything she said, really. It was more the
way she looked at me.

Gods above, she knew.

Maybe it was just paranoia. At least, until I ran
away. Then the police really took an interest. There's
no use trying to explain to you the panic and the
madness that filled my soul as I fled everything I
knew. I ran to keep the rumours away from my ears.

I took drugs to kill the irony of it. In my panicked
flight, I exiled myself from the arms of my sister, who
I had fought so hard to be reunited with. The thought
that I might not see her again was killing me.

And I could tell you tales of my time on the street,
afraid at every turn that I would be found. I could
tell you about my brief contacts with Paul, who would
bring my letters to Ella. I could tell you about the
time I spent prostituting myself or money. But the
heart of this story remains with my crimes, and with
justice delayed.

It would be over a year before I was brought home,
after being found with a drug overdose in a church
parking lot in Los Angeles. I was convinced that I
would be held accountable for my mother's death.

Then I was set free, but not because I was innocent.

It was a negotiated justice, if there was any
justice at all.

" Listen here, Miss, " my lawyer told the D.A., in a
southern drawl that I later came to know he often used
for dramatic effect. " The fact that my client ran away
by no means makes your case. The poor boy was just
traumatized by the death of his only remaining parent.

The smartly dressed woman shook her head, but he
kept right on talking, not skipping a beat in his
expensive southern drawl.

" Whatever evidence you *think* you have is entirely
crap, my dear. Off the record, mind you, even if you
could place my client at the scene of the crime - which
I don't think you can - you'll never convict him of
spitting in a public place. Both you an I know the
circumstances surrounding his father's death have
been... shall we say... overlooked. "

" Wait a minute..." she tried to interrupt.

" Don't take offence, miss. I'm not trying to imply
that you intentionally overlooked the facts of the
case. Nonetheless, there is a lot of political pressure
brought to bear in a case with such a prominent family,
and I'll contend that justice was never served. "

" And if that's the case, and I can bring those
facts forward, there's not a jury in the land that
would convict my client. He's still a boy, for goodness
sake. "

The prosecutor finally forced in an argument of her
own. " Not necessarily. I could easily argue to have
him raised to adult court. Given the facts of the

" And I would oppose the motion. Listen, miss, we
can sit her all day comparing notes about what strategy
we could use in court... and where the sympathies of
the jury would fall... but we both know it's a waste of
time. My client is no danger to anyone. "

" If justice was denied in the case of his father, I
ask you to trust me that justice has now been served.
Perhaps not by the fury of the law, but it's still
justice. This has to end somewhere. Let it end here. "

It happened as quickly as that. Through some sort of
plea agreement that I have no desire to understand, I
was set free from it all. In the years to follow, free
of the burden of drugs, and the fear of retribution,
I've tried to balance my life.

And your judgement is as good as mine about my

I used to think there was a curse on me. Or on my
family. Or something. Like the fates were weaving my
life around me in a pattern that could only bring

If there ever was a curse, I know it's been lifted
now. I can feel it. That, above all, is something worth
writing about.


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